And Zenobia had known he was returning. Ariq stared at her, his heart thundering. This was why the rebellion would have targeted her—why Ghazan Bator would have. The news of Temür Agha’s return would light a fire through the empire, and through the citizens who supported the rebels. His uncle’s return would accomplish what they’d all been fighting for: the people overthrowing the corrupted ministry and the tyranny of the Khagan, and reclaiming the Golden Empire.
What they’d all been fighting for, except for those eager to place themselves on the Khagan’s throne. Except for those who wanted to claim victory for just one faction of the rebellion. They’d all want to stop her so they could control how the news of his uncle’s return spread, and turn it to their advantage.
Zenobia hadn’t trusted him, but she’d told him the one thing that mattered over everything else. Now he knew what she needed to be protected from. She hadn’t hidden it from him.
And she probably had no idea what she’d given him: hope for the rebellion. Hope that he hadn’t felt since a blade had cleaved his mother’s neck.
“How did you know?” she asked.
Know? Ariq didn’t understand. He shook his head.
He only knew that he would be kissing her soon.
Eyebrows drawn, she rested her hip against the desk. “That I was Zenobia Fox. What gave me away?”
So many things. Her mercenaries, her glider contraption, an overheard shout. But Zenobia Fox?
He glanced at her pack. “I read your letters.”
No need to mention that he hadn’t been able to read the English. Just the names.
“My letters?” Disbelief registered on her face. “You saw my name by accident?”
“No. I wanted to know what information you carried that was so necessary to protect.”
Lips parted, she stared at him, her green eyes like stones tossed into a fire. “And you wanted to earn my trust?” Abruptly she straightened and moved away from the desk—away from him. Her back straight, she bit off each word. “Telling me this was the worst way to go about it!”
No. She already didn’t trust him. So he’d had nothing to lose by telling her.
“I lost too many people to the marauders. I needed to know if you were the reason. And you sent a letter that said, ‘The Kraken King suspects me.’ I needed to know if I should.”
She whirled on him. “You read that?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled through clenched teeth, as if battling for control. “I knew you would.”
“You must have, because you wrote it in code. You should have chosen a better one.”
Fury reddened her cheeks. Her slim frame shook with it as she pointed to the door. “Go. Now.”
And give her a chance to rebuild her walls again? No. They were going to fall.
Ariq crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He expected more anger—hot or cold. It didn’t matter. He could withstand it.
But he was wrong. When she spun away from him, it wasn’t anger that he glimpsed in the sudden bleakness of her eyes. Her hand dropped to her side before sliding around her middle, as if holding in a brutal ache. She wasn’t just angry. He’d hurt her.
Ariq couldn’t withstand her pain.
He went after her. Crossing the room, she stiffly turned this way and that, as if looking for escape, her back always to him. She passed the bed, and there was nowhere else to go. She stopped at the wall, her hand flat against the yellow paper, her head bowed. Her exposed neck was a knife in his chest.
He’d hurt her. By reading her letters? He understood the anger. Not this.
She stood before him, shaking. He wanted to hold her against him, but she looked so fragile, as if a touch might shatter her bones and flesh. He reached out with his voice, though he could only manage a rough whisper. “Zenobia.”
She shuddered and shook her head. “I knew I shouldn’t have thought so well of you.” Though her body trembled, her voice was strong and hard. “But you were so blunt. I liked that so much. And I thought you were honest. You even told me that you wanted to know my secrets. I shouldn’t have trusted that any of it was true.”
Ariq hadn’t told her everything. But he’d always told her the truth. “I would not lie to you.”
“You would. Oh, I knew you would, from the very first night. But I let myself believe. Like an idiot, I wanted to believe.” Her head came up, her fingers fisting against the wall. Abruptly she pivoted, eyes like cold green stones as she stared up at him. Angry again—but the pain still there. “Mara heard you. You and your brother. You agreed I was ugly, yet you still pursued me. Now I know why. So you could get close enough to look at my letters. So you could make certain that I was no threat to your town. Well, there you have it. I’m not. You can stop pretending.”
Pretending? Ariq stood frozen, struggling for control. He was engaged in a battle, the most important war he might ever wage, and he couldn’t find his calm.
He couldn’t give in to anger, no matter what she accused him of. Pretending. There was nothing false in what he felt. Nothing false in the emotions ripping through him now.
But she had reason to doubt. That was his fault.
“It wasn’t agreement that Mara heard. It was me letting my brother release his bitterness and anger instead of silencing him with my fist,” he said, and the thinning of Zenobia’s lips told him that she didn’t trust a word. “He wanted to apologize to you, but I didn’t let him. I thought telling you what had been said would do more harm than an apology could fix. I should have let him. I’m sorry for that. But there was nothing false in my pursuit. There’s nothing false in what you see now.”
Her hard gaze skipped down his body and lingered at his groin. He’d shed all but his trousers as he’d crossed the room toward her, and the loose material hadn’t concealed his arousal. His erection had softened at the sight of her pain and during his second pursuit. Now the need stirred again as she looked at him.
But she didn’t soften or warm. Her smile was brittle when her gaze rose to meet his again. “Do you know you aren’t the first to call me ugly? My father liked to tell me that no man would ever have me.”
Each word was a fist to his heart. Was this what lay behind those walls? Pain deeper than he’d ever imagined in her.
Throat thick, he shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Then he would say, ‘If you spread your legs once, you’ll be doing it for any man who comes along.’ Which taught me never to listen to anything he said, because it made no sense. According to him, either no man would have me or every man would.” A sharp laugh accompanied the shake of her head. “But he was right. All this time. He was right. Because you think I’m ugly and want me to spread my legs.”
He couldn’t bear this. “I don’t want you to spread your legs! I want you to open your arms.”
Another laugh ripped from her. “So you think I’m beautiful?”
“No,” Ariq said, and her sharp breath stabbed through his chest. He moved closer. “Except here.”
She flinched away from the hand he lifted to her face. Another knife through his heart. Gently, he cupped her jaw and smoothed his thumb across her cheek. Her gaze held his, hard and shielded against him. But Ariq knew how to get through. He just had to surrender first.
So he did.
“When I first saw your face, I thought it was unremarkable—but I already knew you were extraordinary. You jumped from a flyer and saved Mara, then you picked apart the marauders’ intentions so easily. Then I looked here.” He brushed the corner of her eye. “And they are beautiful. The way you use them to smile and shout and doubt me, even when you aren’t speaking. And here.” He touched her bruised lips, and their trembling quaked through him. “Everything you say, every laugh. Your kiss. And here.” He traced her dark eyebrows. “Every question you ask with them. Every time you’re angry. And I will tell you why I wanted to know your secrets.”
Jaw set, she shook her head, rejecting his reason even before he spoke it.
He told her anyway. “Because you have a light in your face and a fire in your eyes, and the first time I looked into them, I knew it would be you. The woman I would want forever. The woman I need at my side. The woman I would love.”
She stared at him, jade eyes like stone. Her voice was gravel, rough and broken. “I don’t believe any of that.”
“Then believe that you are everything to me,” he said, and she closed her eyes, a desperate defense—as if she were struggling to keep him out.
But she wanted to let him in. Her body trembled as his fingers followed the curve of her jaw, and he felt the need as sharp as his own, exposed and vulnerable. This doubt might destroy them both. Nothing was more important than making her believe him. If not now, then one day.
Tonight, there was nothing more that Ariq could say. But he could show her.
“Zenobia,” he said softly. “It’s my turn.”
Her eyes flew open. Her focus locked on his mouth and followed him down. Leaning in, he braced his hands against the wall beside her stiff shoulders, surrounding her, but not trapping her. She didn’t try to escape.
Gently, he claimed her lips. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. “Trust me,” he murmured against her mouth, but it didn’t soften and she didn’t respond, until the building pain in his chest forced him to pull away.
Zenobia’s hands shot up to his wrists, keeping his palms flat to the wall. Ariq had the strength to break her grip, but he didn’t have the will. He waited. From beneath drawn brows she watched him, her breath suddenly coming short, quick pulls. Her gaze searched his face.
“Say it again,” she said.
His heart thundered. He didn’t need to ask what she wanted to hear. “You are everything to me.”
Her eyes closed, and he didn’t think it was to keep him out this time, but to hold those words in.
Quietly, she said, “Then try again.”
Without hesitation, he kissed her. Her mouth softened against his. Relief hit, left him light-headed with his lips pressed to hers. The surrender had been worth the risk. She would come to trust him with her heart, with the truth. Maybe not fully yet. But he didn’t care about the truth now.
Only this.
He coaxed her lips apart and was rewarded with a soft moan. Her fingers tightened on his wrists. Her mouth was hot and sweet when he deepened the kiss, and he lost himself there, lost in her, until she rose onto her toes, pushing closer.
Her mouth slid from his. “Ariq.” She panted against his jaw. “Ariq. You make me ache. I’m wet between my legs. I’m so wet.”
Each word was like a devastating stroke of her tongue along the length of his cock. She would kill him. With an agonized groan, he cupped her bottom and lifted her against him, letting her feel his response.
Her head fell back with a moan, and she rocked her hips.
The she laughed. “I can’t believe I confessed that.”
Neither could Ariq. It wasn’t like her. But he didn’t care. With fumbling fingers, he tore at the buckle of her tunic. Silk ripped. This wasn’t gentle. He was supposed to be gentle. But he was dizzy with need. He couldn’t think.
Bare, her breasts were beautiful, too. Small, with stiff coral nipples eager for his tongue. Hungrily he latched on, grinding up between her thighs. With a pleasured cry she moved with him, her back arched and her fingers buried in his hair.
“I didn’t know,” she said on a sobbing breath. “I didn’t know it felt like this.”
Her husband hadn’t pleased her? “He was worthless, then,” he growled against her skin. “It’s best that he’s dead.”
“Who? No.” She suddenly laughed again, a breathless sound. “That was a lie. I was never married. I just told that to Helene so she would stop nagging. Ariq, please! Don’t stop.”
He had stopped. Because that was another confession she never would have made, and he’d thought he needed to check the doors, or open a window, but that thought was gone. His legs seemed weak when he carried her to the bed. Her shoulder was tanned, so lightly. If not for the strip of paler skin, he wouldn’t have known.
“I saw you in the water, in the sun,” he whispered, kissing that spot. “I needed you.”
She didn’t respond. Her arms fell away from his shoulders. He looked up, and her eyes were closed. Asleep.
His own body was heavy.
His head was light.
Gas. He was breathing gas.
He lurched away from her unconscious form and stumbled to his knees. Why was the bed so high? The room swam. Black spots danced before his eyes. Open the window. She’d locked the balcony doors.
And yet they were coming through. Masks concealed their faces. Ariq would rip one from their heads and use it to breathe. But he couldn’t get off the floor. The strength in his arms was nothing.
“Don’t touch her.” He could barely form the words. His lips were numb and the black spots were spreading. “Leave her here.”
The hiss of gas grew louder. They’d known he’d be too strong. They’d known just how to come. And he knew what would happen now, because he’d taught them how to do this.
A pungent cloth covered his face and he was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
She was warm and sick and blind.
Zenobia opened her eyes to darkness. Strong arms cradled her tight against a broad chest. Nausea curled in her stomach and her head pounded, as if she’d drunk too much wine.
But she hadn’t. She’d been kissing Ariq.
Now she was on an airship. The muffled vibration of an engine sounded from behind her. She sat sideways on Ariq’s lap, her bare feet on a cold metal floor.
Kidnapped again.
Kidnapped by idiots. They’d brought Ariq with her. If they’d valued their lives as much as they valued a ransom, they’d have left him behind.
As if sensing that she’d awoken, he tilted her chin up before sliding his hand around to support her nape. His fingers pushed into her hair. His chest was bare. Only warm, dense muscle lay under her palm. Their kidnappers had taken them as they were.
She swallowed, forcing moisture into her dry throat. “Are we alone?”
“Yes.” Gently, his callused fingers massaged the back of her neck, as if he knew how much her head hurt. “You’re all right?”
Mostly. She nodded against his hand. Blurred memories were flooding in, of Ariq’s mouth on her breast, of words flying from her mouth on dizzy laughter. “What happened?”
“They pumped a mixture of gases into the room.”
“What gases? Were we poisoned?”
“No. I don’t know their names in French.” His voice was calm. So calm. As if he’d been kidnapped before, too—or intended to break everyone aboard this airship in half. “One is called a giggling gas.”
“I know of it.” She’d once written an adventure where Archimedes had felled a villainous surgeon with it. Archimedes Fox and the Laughing Death. And this was all wrong. They’d been clever enough to use gas instead of trying to fight Ariq, but they’d brought him along? “I don’t think this is another kidnapping. Do you know who took us?”
“Rebels,” he said. “We used that technique to remove people from enclosed spaces—usually homes—so that we could go in and out with a minimum of casualties.”
So they’d come for Ariq, not for her. Something related to the marauders. “Then they want you alive.”
“Yes.”
And her, too? Why?
Her mind didn’t have to race far to think of another reason—but it was one that she’d barely begun to believe herself. And her memories were fogged. Maybe she’d only dreamed it.
The sick tension in her stomach curled tighter. The rebels would have had to monitor the effects of the gas in some way. Too early, and she and Ariq wouldn’t be asleep. Too late, and they would suffocate. “Before they took us, would they have been listening to us?”
“They were listening,” he confirmed softly and held her closer.
Then they�
�d heard everything. Who she was. That Ariq had read her letters. Her anger and hurt. None of that mattered. Because it was the last thing he’d told her that they could use against him.
Unless she’d dreamed it.
Heart pounding, she made herself ask. “Did you tell me you were falling in love with me?”
“Yes.” His hand stroked down her back. “I said that you’re everything. And I always knew you would be.”
God. Oh, God. This wasn’t the time to be a ninny. But she couldn’t stop herself from turning her face against his shoulder and kissing him there, breathing in his warm skin.
It would be so easy to stay like this forever. But they were in a dark room on an unfamiliar airship. She forced her mind back to the problem.
“How do we escape?”
“We don’t yet. This is a vault aboard a Nipponese naval airship. Wood, I can break through, and I can force most doors aboard an ironship. But this is reinforced with steel.”
“A Nipponese naval ship?” That meant an official one. Yet rebels from the Horde empire had taken them?
“I don’t understand it yet, either.”
Yet he didn’t sound upset by that. Still calm. In the alley when Polley had tried to abduct her, that calm had been terrifying. Now it was reassuring.
“They were ready for you. The gas. This vault.”
“Yes.”
But wood could have stopped most people. Even if they were infected by nanoagents, as Mara and Cooper were. As Archimedes was. They were stronger, had more endurance, healed more quickly, but Zenobia didn’t think that they could have broken a hefty man like Polley in half.
At the time, she’d attributed it to rage and Ariq’s size, and had suspected that he must be infected, too, even though most rebels wouldn’t risk it. A radio signal could control the tiny mechanical bugs, stopping the host in their tracks—or killing them. The Khagan could have destroyed the rebellion long ago if they’d all been infected.
The Kraken King Part IV: The Kraken King and the Inevitable Abduction (A Novel of the Iron Seas) Page 4